The Dolomite Solution by Trevor Scott

very often.
    Jake got out and shuffled across the street between traffic. He went straight for the row of elevators as if he were staying there, got in, and punched the six.
    On the way up he wondered if he had beat Martini and his crew to Allen Murdock’s room. He got his answer as soon as he got off onto the sixth floor. All was calm. Only a maid with a cart full of towels and other supplies was making her way down the corridor. She knocked on a door and then entered with her pass key card.
    Walking straight to room 610 whistling along the way, Jake stopped for a moment outside the door. He padded himself down as if searching for something, and then swore at himself for being so stupid.
    The maid watched him search his pockets for his credit-card type key, mumbling in German under his breath. Finally she smiled and came over to him, stuck her key in the door, and swung it open for him.
    He thanked her profusely, saying how stupid he had been. He smiled at her and closed the door behind him.
    Inside, Jake quickly made his way around the room. There was a strange odor in the place, like an overwhelming cloud of flatulence mixed with an attempt at covering the smell with perfume. He checked the drawers. Murdock had actually unpacked from his suitcase and laid his shirts and pants out in the dresser provided. How anal. His socks and underwear were folded neatly in another drawer.
    He picked up the pace, searching for anything that might give him a clue why he was dead, and yet not even remotely certain what that could be. The bathroom was equally sanitary. It’s funny how you think you know someone through casual acquaintance, and that image is completely shot to hell as soon as you run through the person’s toiletries. Even the towel Murdock had used following his shower sometime the day before had been hung up neatly on a rack.
    Returning to the main room, Jake saw the bed had been made. The maid hadn’t gotten to his room, so that made sense. Murdock had probably been killed sometime early last night, hours before he had actually found him in the alley.
    There was nothing there, Jake was sure of that. He left the room, smiled at the maid and thanked her again, and then made his way to the elevator.
    On his way down he had another idea. When he reached the lobby he went directly to the front desk.
    A pretty young woman dressed in a dark blue suit coat greeted him with a smile. “May I help you, sir?” she asked in German.
    â€œYes.” Jake pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “I’m staying in room 610, and I have a problem.”
    She looked concerned. “How may I help?”
    â€œI’m not very good with numbers,” Jake explained. “And I’ve lost my personal phone book. I need to make a few calls, but that’s impossible now. I was hoping you could pull up my phone record, since I’ve made a number of calls while staying here, so I can write down the numbers I need.”
    The woman hesitated briefly before punching his room number into the computer. “What’s your name?”
    â€œAllen Murdock.” Jake gazed around the lobby. This was a hell of a gamble.
    In a long minute, she said, “Here we are.” She hit the enter key and a printer started whipping out the information. Seconds later she ripped it off and handed it to him.
    He didn’t even look at the paper, folding it and sliding it into his inside jacket pocket. “Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver.” He threw her his best smile before turning to leave. She was going to have a strange look on her face when the polizei came, saying Murdock was dead.
    Jake was almost to the door when he took a double take of a woman about to enter the bar. She saw him and immediately smiled. It was the woman who only hours ago had shared his bed. She had changed into a one-piece jumpsuit, belted around her thin waist and unbuttoned down the front one too many times. She looked a